


we sit here in our storm

by Mireille



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: "Sure we're fucking but does he actually LIKE me?", Canadian Shack (in another dimension), M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Canon Compliant, Stranded Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23094763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: Bad: Tony and Steve have been pulled through a portal to... somewhere.Worse: While they've found shelter, they're stranded in a blizzard with wild animals outside, and are probably going to die here.Maybe not so bad after all: If they're probably going to die here, maybe they can try a little honesty. A very little, but it's better than nothing.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 180





	we sit here in our storm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Marvel Trumps Hate 2019, and it was a complete joy to write. 
> 
> The "not canon compliant" tag comes from my usual: Everything through the first Avengers movie happened, and then things went off in a direction that's a lot more fun for me.

****

This was definitely Steve's fault somehow, Tony thought as he tried to see if there was any kind of a light source in the rough shelter that they'd found themselves in.

His suit had night vision, of course, but he wanted to make sure he had as much power in reserve as possible, just in case they ran into more of those animals that had been their welcoming committee when they'd fallen through that portal from Times Square. 

"What are you looking for?" Steve sounded infuriatingly calm. If he was about to give Tony a lecture about how they didn't need electricity or central heating or anything but a big stupid stick to protect themselves from things that looked like saber-toothed tigers with horns--

Well, Tony would be tempted to find a big stupid stick of his own and smack Steve over his big stupid head with it. He wouldn't do it, but he'd be tempted. 

"Candles, oil lamp, anything that gives light." 

"I see pretty well in the dark," Steve said, "and don't you have infrared or something in your helmet?" 

"I do," Tony said, trying to sound patient, "but I'm still looking for a light source. Also, firewood, a coal stove, something. It's getting colder out there, and the snow's coming down hard." Again, he could use the environmental controls in his suit to keep warm, and Steve would probably be fine as well, but that didn't mean that they should be stupid. 

But the shelter they'd found themselves in wasn't all that well-supplied. It was a log cabin, basically, about twelve feet square. There were some primitive-looking benches along the same wall that had the door in it, and what looked like the cover to a well in the center of the floor, and that seemed to be it. 

The far wall was in shadow, though, and even with night vision activated, Tony was still having trouble seeing what was there for some reason. He'd have to get closer to get a better look. 

Steve must have had the same idea, because he crossed the room, giving the well cover a wide berth. "There's an opening back here," he reported before Tony could reach him. "I'm going to have a look." 

"You see that well in the dark?" Tony asked skeptically. Now that he was closer, he could see that Steve was right; most of the rear wall wasn't a wall at all, just an opening that led into inky black nothingness. 

Tony was going out on a limb here and saying he wasn't a fan.

"No," Steve admitted. "But clearly this was intended for people to use, and they presumably wouldn't see that well in total darkness either, so there's probably a light source just inside the entrance." 

"It was intended for 'people,'" Tony agreed. "Not necessarily humans. We're not on Earth." At least not theirs. That portal could have sent them to another planet, but it could just as easily have sent them through to another dimension. "There's no saying the people here even need light to see. Or that they see at all." 

But of course the conclusions Steve jumped to were the right ones, because the universe hated Tony sometimes, at least where Steve was concerned. 

That was why Steve was simultaneously the most attractive person Tony had ever met in his long and extremely varied experience--and Tony wasn't just talking about his physical attributes, though those were obviously impressive--and also annoying as shit. 

"There are some candles here," Steve reported after fumbling around for a few minutes in the dark. "I don't have any matches, though."

"Bring them out into the light." Not that the cabin actually had light, but the thin gray winter sunlight trickling through the cracks between the logs was better than nothing. At least Tony would be able to see the candles. 

Steve did. "Hold one out," Tony told him. "Far from your body, okay? I don't actually want to shoot you."

Steve chuckled. "You kind of sounded like you did, right before we went through that..."

"Portal," Tony finished for him. Not that Tony was an expert. That was just obviously a portal, and acting like he was the expert on this made the ground feel a little steadier under his feet. 

And yes, he and Steve had been yelling at one another, which was probably why neither of them had noticed the ring of unnatural light appearing in the air next to them until it swallowed them up. 

Steve held the candle at arm's length, and Tony focused a low-power repulsor beam at it, just enough that the wick caught. "There are at least a dozen candles," Steve said. "That's just the basket I put my hand on first; there might be more. I'm going back in to explore." 

Tony wanted to know what was back there, too, but he wasn't going to give Steve the satisfaction of letting him know he'd had a good idea. Childish? Maybe. 

But damn it, not only had Steve been on his ass about not sticking to the plan in Times Square--it was just the Wrecking Crew, for God's sake, it wasn't like Tony couldn't have handled them on his own--but then he'd nearly been lunch for a pack of saber-toothed tiger-deer (he might have been in his armor, but those fangs looked like they'd be effective can openers) and had, in part, been saved by Steve Rogers swinging a big stick because his shield was still back in New York. 

He'd come by this foul mood honestly, and he was going to savor it. If Steve wanted to get him out of it, he was going to have to work for it. 

So he settled grumpily on one of the benches near the door, taking a spectrographic reading of the composition of the floor tiles to pass the time. 

The copper content seemed high, but Tony wasn't enough of a chemist or a geologist to be able to draw any meaningful conclusions from that. He only had the most basic of AI functions, this far from home; the instance of JARVIS in the armor handled all the suit functions perfectly but couldn't connect to any databases that might help Tony make sense of what he was looking at. 

Good thing it would never matter.

"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas any more," he said. 

"What?" came Steve's voice from the back room, and then, "Hold on, I think I've found--" 

And then light, harsh and unnatural, spilling forth from the back room. 

"A light switch," Steve finished, unnecessarily. 

Tony took his helmet off, leaving it on the bench, and went back to see what Steve had discovered. 

The cabin they'd initially entered was primitive, but that was clearly deceptive. The back room wasn't a room at all; it was a cave, though Tony couldn't be sure if it was man-made, or if it was a natural cave that had been made more inhabitable through technology. 

On one side of the opening, there was a metal structure mounted into the rock wall; a second glance revealed that it was a heavy sliding metal door, and Tony found a mechanism on the other side that it would lock into. The other side of the door was covered with thin panels of wood that would blend in pretty well with the back wall of the cabin, when closed. 

Between that and the darkness, if the door hadn't been open, they might not have found this room for quite a while. 

Steve had continued poking around. "There's running water," he said. "And a heater." 

"Turn it on," Tony suggested. "We might as well get warm." 

There were shelves against most of the available wall space, all filled with baskets and wooden crates of supplies. The level of technology wasn't twenty-first century, maybe mid-twentieth? It was difficult to pinpoint. 

Tony itched to take the light fixtures apart. They weren't fluorescent bulbs, and they didn't look like standard incandescents either. He wanted to see what they'd come up with here, and whether it was something that had a chance of application back home. 

This place must have been in use for decades, since they'd sunk a well into the floor of the cabin. Or maybe that was the source of the running water, and they'd covered it rather than capping it completely in case the pump went out. 

He'd have time to figure that out later. He didn't want to think about having time to figure that out later, because he didn't want to think about how they were stuck here. 

Better to keep focusing on taking stock of their surroundings. There was a doorway in the far wall of the cave; Tony opened the door to find a dormitory: four spartan-looking bunks--the mattresses thin and, when Tony sat down on one, not especially comfortable, but with several thick blankets piled on each--four small lockers, and another heater. Tony turned that on, too. Later, they might need to be careful about their power use, but right now, he wanted to get the damp chill out of their new living space. 

He checked through the lockers and then stuck his head back out. "There's some stuff in here that might fit you," he said, "unless you want to stay wrapped in the flag." 

"I'm fine, but thanks," Steve said. "I found the bathroom, too." He waved his hand in the direction of another, narrower, doorway that Tony hadn't noticed earlier. 

"All the comforts of home, if home's in the middle of a monster-filled blizzard." 

"I've had worse," Steve said, and he probably didn't mean it to sound like he was scornful of anyone who hadn't lived in an army tent in the middle of a war zone. 

Tony decided this was a reasonable time to get himself out of the armor. At least he'd made that a lot more feasible to do on his own than it had been just a few versions before, and the undersuit was still completely dry. Everyone who'd left clothing in one of those lockers was a lot bulkier than Tony; he could wear the stuff if he needed to, but he'd look ridiculous in it. He'd rather not look ridiculous in front of Steve. 

He did that often enough as it was. Not that Steve seemed to notice, and maybe that was for the best; Steve didn't need to realize that Tony was a lovesick idiot. He could stay oblivious, and Tony could keep what they had. 

To be honest, given his track record, "occasional fuckbuddies and even more occasional friends" stood a better chance of long term success than anything else, anyway. 

Tony left his armor in the bedroom and went back out to the main living area. The center of the room held a large table and several chairs; he pulled one out and sighed as he sat down. "At least we know there's civilization somewhere." 

Steve nodded. "There are some posters on the wall over there. I can't read them, but there are some pictures. I get the feeling this is some kind of base for a work crew, maybe?" 

Tony got up again and went over to see for himself. One of the posters was clearly some kind of first-aid reminder; the illustrations of things like someone applying pressure to a bleeding wound made that clear. The others looked like safety warnings for heavy machinery, maybe construction equipment.

"They're basically humanoid," Tony said. The people pictured in the illustrations were built along sturdier lines than the average Earth person; the clothing in the bunk room and the scale of the furniture suggested they were probably taller, too. There were a few other subtle differences in the illustrations, too--something that looked like scales or a feathery pattern on the face, hard to be sure with a very basic drawing--but yeah, these were basically people. 

"But definitely not human," Steve said. "I don't know where we are, but this isn't Earth." 

"The tiger-deer weren't your first clue?" 

"I was hoping someone had brought them in," he admitted. "I didn't actually believe it, but I hoped." Steve sighed. "Nobody knows where we are."

"No," Tony admitted. Nobody knew where they were. Nobody had even been close enough to them that he could be sure the others knew what had happened to them. And if they did figure it out, there was still no guarantee that they'd be able to get them back. 

"We'll try to find civilization once the weather improves," Steve said. "Maybe whoever uses this base will come back once the storm's over. There's water and food, and power; we'll be okay until then." 

"We should boil the water," Tony said. "We don't know what kind of microorganisms are in it, and we won't have any immunity. As for the food--" He shrugged. "Maybe we can eat it. Let's hope we can eat it."

"I should try it," Steve said. "If there's anything toxic in it, I have a better chance of surviving it than you do, especially if I only eat a little." 

"If you want to be the guinea pig, go ahead." Steve was right, of course. Any organ damage caused by an alien toxin would be something Steve's body could repair faster than Tony's could. 

That didn't mean it wasn't risky, but they had no idea how long it would be before the weather cleared up. They might need a source of food, especially if they wanted to have the strength to travel. 

Steve rummaged in one of the baskets and produced a paper-wrapped package. He tore it open and shrugged. "It looks like dried fruit." 

It was dark purple and speckled with whitish seeds. Not the most appetizing thing Tony had ever seen, but far from the worst. "Pretty straightforward," he suggested. "That might be a safe route to take." 

Steve broke off a small piece and put it into his mouth, grimacing almost instantly. "It's salted," he said. "And really sour."

"Is it bitter? Bitter things are more likely to be toxic." 

"No," Steve said, doggedly chewing it. "It's not bitter. It's disgusting, though." 

"Worse than Clint's lasagna?" Clint had a creative approach to ingredient substitutions. 

"So much worse." Steve swallowed. "We should have boiled some drinking water before this," he said. "I could have at least washed the taste out of my mouth."

"I'll do it now," Tony offered. He wanted a better look at the stove, anyway, He wanted to find the generator, to make sure that he was able to keep it running for as long as they needed, but first things first, and safe drinking water was important. 

Steve disappeared into the bedroom while Tony was doing that, coming out just as Tony was turning the water off to let it cool. 

No matter what Steve had said a few minutes ago, he'd changed clothes; he was wearing a loose, long-sleeved top that zipped, and a pair of pants in the same material, both in shades of brown, and he'd exchanged his boots for shoes that could also have convincingly been slippers. "I decided to let my uniform dry."

"We could get some snow and pack it around the pan to cool it faster, if you really need water now," Tony suggested.

Steve shook his head. "I can wait. The aftertaste is mostly gone." 

"Okay, good." Tony found another large pot, filled it with water, and set it to boil. There were some empty jars on one of the shelves; they could fill them with the cooled water so that they could keep a steady supply. 

He realized he was expecting them to be stuck here for a long time. If this had just been an unusually heavy storm, the work crew would still be here, or they'd be out in it, doing some kind of emergency response. But this place looked largely deserted; there wasn't any fresh food, even in what he'd worked out was the refrigerator, and while there were a few clothes in the lockers, there wasn't much sign of habitation. 

It would make sense to assume this place had shut down for the winter, and unless this was a late-season storm, he and Steve were going to be here for a while. 

Which was fine, he supposed, because where were they going to go?

"Have you seen anything we can use to pass the time?" Steve asked. "I know we can't read any books they left, but there might be something like a pack of cards. If we can't adapt them to match a standard deck, we could probably make something up."

Tony shook his head. "Nothing like that." He thought about smirking at Steve and saying something along the lines of, "Guess we'll have to make our own fun." 

But he usually waited for Steve to come to him. It made him look less needy. Anyway, they'd never actually had sex in a situation where one of them couldn't walk away afterward. Awkward mornings-after weren't Tony's style, and they didn't seem to be Steve's, either.

And Steve wasn't likely to come to him, not after last night. There were usually several weeks between the times they fucked, long enough that every time, Tony had been sure that it had been the last time. 

Then Steve would turn up at the door of the penthouse, or he'd nudge Tony on their way out of a mission briefing and they'd meet up fifteen minutes later in a supply closet, or, once, he'd come into Tony's workshop. (Tony had been impressed by his own ability to assemble the components of an elbow joint while Steve was attempting to suck his brains out through his cock. And people told him he was bad at staying focused.) 

Last night, he'd gone to Steve's apartment. He'd been expecting a no--after all, this wasn't on Steve's terms, and Steve did like things to function according to his terms--but Steve had smiled warmly and offered him a beer. They'd sat in Steve's barely-furnished living room and made conversation while they'd drunk their beers. It had been one of the times when Tony let himself believe that they might actually be friends. 

And then Steve had taken him to the bedroom, and it had been one of the times when Tony let himself imagine that they might actually be more than that. 

That feeling had survived getting dressed and going back up to his own bed, but it hadn't survived the call to assemble the next morning or the argument they'd had in Times Square. 

And it sure as hell hadn't survived the rest of today. 

But now Steve was giving him a long, measured look, and saying, "You know, back in my day--" and Tony was going to kill him, he was, he didn't want to hear how everything was better before the invention of the microchip, not when he was probably going to die on some godforsaken planet with no company other than Steve Rogers. 

"--we had to make our own fun." 

And that was so much like what Tony had been thinking himself, before he'd gotten sidetracked by being annoyed at Steve's very existence, that it took him a moment to register that this wasn't just a "the old days were so much better," pronouncement. 

"We've been known to do that in the twenty-first century, too," he said. 

And then Steve's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Those beds aren't that big, but they could fit two if they don't mind not having a lot of personal space." 

Tony could think of a lot worse things to do right now, while they waited for the storm to die down and their drinking water to cool and Steve to _not_ be poisoned by that repulsive purple fruit, than let Steve into his personal space. 

It wouldn't change anything--Steve was still the most annoying person Tony had ever met and they were still barely friends most of the time--but it'd kill some time. 

"We should probably huddle up to conserve warmth, anyway," Tony said, and led the way into the bedroom like he had absolutely no doubts that Steve would follow instead of changing his mind. 

He didn't even turn to see if Steve was behind him--he didn't have to turn to see if Steve was behind him, he could feel Steve's presence in the room--just peeled off his shirt, his back still to Steve. 

He heard Steve's breath, drawn in sharply. "Tony," Steve said. "I'm sorry." 

Tony frowned. It wasn't like Steve had never seen his back before. There couldn't be anything about it that would make Steve change his mind. He turned around so that he could frown at Steve directly. "What?"

Steve didn't answer, just stepped forward and put his hands lightly on Tony's bare shoulders, the slight discomfort from the touch letting Tony know that Steve had matched his hands to the fingerprint bruises he'd left on Tony's shoulders the night before. 

"I didn't realize," Steve said. "You should have told me I was hurting you." 

"You always do that," Tony said. Not always on his shoulders; it depended on exactly what they'd done. But Steve always clutched Tony to him just a little too tightly, and Tony never minded. 

They were only bruises. He got worse during team training. And they were a tangible reminder that Steve had been there. 

But there was always long enough between their nights (or afternoons, or mid-mornings) together that the bruises had always faded before the next time, and they usually weren't very dark until the next morning, so maybe Steve hadn't known he was doing it. 

Maybe Steve wasn't trying to hold Tony close to him for the few minutes he was allowed. Maybe Tony was the only one of them who wanted a reminder. 

"You should have told me," Steve insisted. He hadn't moved his hands away, and Tony wished he'd dig his fingers into Tony's shoulders and add a new layer of marks on top of the ones from last night. 

Tony shook his head. "It's nothing," he said, because he couldn't make himself say, "I like them." 

"I'll be more careful," Steve promised, and no, the last thing Tony wanted was for Steve to be careful. 

If they were careful, they wouldn't do this. 

"I'm not made of glass," Tony said, and that was a lie, because Tony felt like he was nothing _but_ glass: transparent and likely to shatter, prone to leaving nasty wounds if you prodded at the broken parts. "I won't break." Another lie. 

"I don't want to break you," Steve said, and that was a lie, too, because he leaned in and kissed Tony then, slow and careful, exploring rather than claiming, and Tony could feel himself coming apart at the seams. 

Tony wondered if there was something he could add to the reactor in his chest that would keep Steve at bay, along with the shrapnel. 

They were probably going to die here, Tony reminded himself, and probably not of old age. The storm, the tiger-deer, the millions of foreign microbes--they weren't going to have to worry about what they were going to do if rescue never came. 

And if he was going to die anyway, if he didn't have to worry about awkwardness and team dynamics and the sheer torture of looking at Steve Rogers every day and feeling like a goddamn Smiths song every time ( _Please, please, please let me get what I want this time_ ) there was no reason not to let himself have this, just this once. 

So while Tony kissed back, he also walked backward a bit, drawing Steve along with him until the backs of his knees bumped against one of the beds. "Take me to bed," Tony said, because he usually said, "Fuck me," and this time could, for once, be different. 

If Steve wanted it to. 

Steve just nodded, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Tony started getting undressed. He was on his back, knees drawn up in an obvious invitation, within moments. The heater was doing a good enough job that Tony was perfectly comfortable naked, no need to do this under the blankets. 

Steve just looked down at him, like he didn't know what to do next. Tony knew that wasn't true. Steve was _gifted_. at what to do next. 

"It's getting kind of lonely here," Tony said, and Steve smiled. 

"We can't have that," he said, and quickly undressed. 

Steve's weight on top of Tony wasn't an unfamiliar sensation. That hadn't been what they did last night--last night Tony had buried himself in the glorious tight heat of Steve's perfect ass--but it happened often enough. 

But the weight of Steve's gaze as he looked down into Tony's eyes was something new. 

It was probably just the realization that he was going to die here, with someone he only really got along with when they were fucking, and not always even then.

But it felt like more than that, all the same. 

Steve kissed him again, pretending that he meant it, and Tony gave up pretending that he didn't. 

"We don't have any lube," Steve said. "There might be something out there, but--"

"But I'm not trusting whatever it is until we take the time to check it out," Tony finished for him. "It's okay. Spit will do." 

"I don't want to hurt you," Steve said, his head dipping down to kiss the thumbprint on his right shoulder, near his neck. 

"You won't," Tony lied. "You can't." He'd be sore later, he knew that, but he'd be fine. Steve wasn't going to hurt him. 

Steve might rip his damaged heart to shreds, but Steve wouldn't hurt him, and Steve didn't even know that Tony had a heart to be broken.

The first time they'd fucked, Tony had been drunk, devastated over losing Pepper, and swearing that love was bullshit anyway. 

Steve had probably believed that Tony meant it.

Tony had been in love with him then. 

That had been a year ago; Tony didn't even know what to call it now.

Steve changed position, moving so that he could feed Tony his cock. Tony let himself be sloppy, doing the best he could to get Steve's cock wet enough to fuck him. 

"Come on," he said, when Steve pulled his cock out of Tony's mouth. "It's okay. Just go slow. I'm ready." 

Steve didn't say anything, just touched the bruises again. 

"Leave more," Tony said. "I don't mind, I want you to," and there it was, a part-truth spilling out when he'd never meant to say it. 

Tony Stark was a playboy and a cynic. He shouldn't want to carry reminders with him that at least occasionally, the best man he knew thought Tony was worthy of his attention.

Steve still didn't say anything. Tony saw his jaw tighten as he very definitely didn't say anything, and he wondered what it was that Steve was trying so hard not to say. 

But Steve slid back down on the bed, and Tony drew his knees up higher to give Steve a good view. 

He closed his eyes. Steve was still looking at him, and he wasn't sure he liked it. That was ridiculous. Of course he liked Steve looking at him, who wouldn't want that? 

Besides, it didn't matter what Steve saw now. They were going to die here, and compared to death, what was a little embarrassment? 

So Tony opened his eyes again, made himself look directly at Steve as Steve's cock pushed into him. There was a moment when he couldn't stop his eyelids from fluttering closed, as he breathed slowly and shallowly until he adjusted to the feeling of fullness (he was fine, but Steve was _big_ , and he always needed a moment) but that wasn't the same as trying to hide. 

He was done with that. 

Steve Rogers was the most infuriating person Tony had ever met, and Tony had loved him--not quite since the day they met, but for nearly that long. 

If they were going to die here, he was going to do it honestly. 

Steve looked down into Tony's eyes and blinked suddenly, before his mouth curved into a soft smile that Tony didn't think he'd ever seen directed at himself before. " _Tony_ ," was all he said. 

Steve wasn't a stupid man, so Tony should have been expecting something like this.

"That's my name," Tony agreed. "Though 'God' will also do, if you're so inclined." 

Steve shook his head a little, then kissed Tony. "Don't," he said. 

"No?"

"No. Please?" 

"Okay," Tony said. "Just kiss me again?" 

Steve did, and started moving inside Tony, slowly and carefully. This time, Tony was the one who reached up, wrapping his arms around Steve and digging his fingers into Steve's back. 

He couldn't leave marks on Steve's skin, at least not ones that lasted more than a minute or two. He tried not to think that was some kind of metaphor.

But Steve kept kissing Tony while he fucked him, slow and steady, his lips brushing over Tony's eyelids, his cheeks, his forehead. When he kissed Tony's mouth, Tony parted his lips for Steve, welcoming him in. 

He couldn't remember them ever taking their time like this before. Steve was moving a little faster inside him now, but still not in a rush, and the friction of Steve's body pressed against his was enough to keep Tony aroused, but not in any hurry to come. 

They didn't have anywhere to be, and they weren't likely to be interrupted, not with the storm howling outside. They couldn't even get away from one another when it was done, so there was no reason to rush this. 

Neither of them did much talking--which again, was unusual for them, or at least for him. Steve usually seemed to like it when Tony talked during sex, so Tony made sure to do it a lot. But he didn't know what he'd say now, because the only thing he wanted to say was the one thing he wasn't going to.

Even if the way Steve kept looking at him made him think that maybe, just maybe, it'd be okay if he did. 

When Steve finally came, shuddering against Tony's body, he kissed Tony again, and Tony clutched Steve to him like if he just held on tightly enough, he could keep Steve with him like this forever. 

Instead, of course, Steve pulled out, then shifted his weight so that he could take hold of Tony's cock and stroke him until his back arched and he thrust helplessly into Steve's fist, then came. 

Tony was still breathing hard when a sudden chill made him realize he was alone in the bed. This was it, then; the sex might have felt different, but they were still the same people. 

But Steve was standing by the bed, still looking down at him with that same half-smile. Tony would empty his bank accounts if it meant Steve would smile at him like that every day. "I'll be right back," he said. 

And then, to Tony's surprise, Steve dragged one of the blankets off the next bunk and draped it over Tony before he left. 

Tony just lay there, trying not to think. Not thinking at all was impossible for him, but he tried not to think about Steve, anyway. He thought about a lot of things, projects he was never going to finish now, things he was never going to get to do. 

Maybe they could survive here, at least for a while. There was a reasonable level of technology based on this shelter; maybe he would get to continue at least some of his work. 

He kept his mind occupied that way until Steve came back, carrying one of the baskets from the storage shelves, not by the handle, but with both hands, carefully. 

He set it down on the floor by the bed, and Tony looked down to see three jars of water--one large and two small--and what might have been a sponge. 

Steve opened up the larger jar and dipped the sponge in it. "This is from the bathroom," he said. "It's probably safe to use for washing, right?" 

"I wouldn't clean wounds with it," Tony said, "but yeah, we can wash with it." He reached out for the sponge, but Steve pushed his hand aside. 

"Let me do it." Steve had already washed himself off, Tony noticed, and now he turned his attention to Tony, using warm water and the sponge to wash him clean.

It was a small kindness, but it felt so intimate that Tony found himself holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

The only thing that dropped was the sponge, back into the basket, when Steve finished his task and kissed him again. "Move over a little?" he said. "I think there's room for both of us if we squeeze in." 

Tony slid over, as close to the wall as he could get, and Steve joined him under the blanket, bringing the two smaller jars of water with him. "This is from the boiled supply," he said, holding one out for Tony. 

Tony took it, unscrewing the lid and taking a sip. It tasted odd, probably the unfamiliar mineral content, but it was drinkable. 

He drank about half the water and put the lid back on. Steve did the same, curling next to him, wrapping his arm around Tony's chest, just below the arc reactor. 

They were going to die here, but if Tony had anything to say about it, it wouldn't be today, and it wouldn't be alone.

****

"Tony, wake up." Steve was shaking his shoulder, and Tony sat bolt upright, heart pounding. His armor. He had to get to his armor; it was across the room--

And then Steve's arms were wrapped around him again, and Tony could force his breathing to slow. "There was a portal," Steve said. "Just a tiny one, and just for a few seconds. But I could hear Bruce calling us, and I answered him. I think he heard me, but then it closed." 

A portal. The others were looking for them, and maybe they knew now that Steve and Tony were here and alive. 

If it opened again, they might not have time to waste. "Get dressed," Tony said, squirming out of Steve's embrace. "We need to be ready to move if they find us again." 

They dressed quickly--Steve back in his uniform, Tony into his undersuit--and before Tony had time to retrieve his helmet from the other room, a ring of bluish light opened in the room. 

"It was smaller last time," Steve said, but it was still small, too small for them to get through. 

Tony could see through it, a little. There was a lab on the other side, but not one he recognized. 

And then Bruce said, "Cap? Tony? You guys still there?" Then, to someone on his side of the portal, "You're sure these were the settings when we talked to Cap before?" 

"I'm sure, Dr. Banner. I do know how to operate my equipment." The voice was familiar, but Tony couldn't place it. He was still trying to remember who it was when Steve interrupted the budding argument on the other side.

"We're here, Bruce," Steve called. "We're safe for the moment," he added, "but do you think you can bring us home?"

"Absolutely," Bruce said with the kind of confidence that, from Tony, could have meant that he was bullshitting. Bruce wasn't Tony, though, so maybe it was the truth. "We just didn't want to waste energy on a larger portal until we were sure we had you." 

"How'd you find us?" Tony asked. "This isn't even where we came through."

"The arc reactor," Bruce said. "It gave us a unique energy signature to home in on." 

Steve reached out and pressed his hand against the breastplate of Tony's armor. Tony couldn't feel the touch, of course, but warmth spread through his chest anyway. 

"Give us ten minutes," Bruce said. "We'll open up a portal to these coordinates then, big enough for you to come through." 

"I'll be counting the seconds," Tony said. And it was true, but mostly because this would all be over, and in ten minutes, he and Steve would get back to normal.

He had ten minutes, and he didn't know how to use them.

****

In the end, he spent the time by retrieving his helmet, finding spare bulbs for the light fixtures on one of the shelves and taking a few with him, and then sitting on the edge of one of the beds.

Steve folded up the soiled blankets on the bed they'd used, so that nobody inadvertently slept on them, and then sat on one of the other beds. 

They didn't talk. 

And then Bruce and Reed Richards--Tony knew that voice had sounded familiar--had opened a portal and Steve and Tony had stepped through it. 

They were home. 

Due to the nature of dimensional travel, they'd actually been gone three days here, but three days wasn't too bad. He'd skipped out on his life for three days for worse reasons before. 

Tony had suggested, rather forcefully, that maybe Bruce should check Steve out since he'd tasted alien food. It gave him a chance to call a car and get away, back to the tower, back to his penthouse.

So much for honesty.

He returned his armor to the armory, took an obscenely long, extremely hot, shower, and changed clothes. 

JARVIS filled him in on the end of the fight in Times Square. SHIELD had handled cleanup duty, and the Wrecking Crew were all in custody. There'd been a few civilian injuries, mostly tourists, but nothing severe and no deaths. All in all, not a bad outcome. 

He'd just poured himself a drink and opened the refrigerator to look for something to eat when JARVIS interrupted the music Tony'd had playing in the background. "Sir, Captain Rogers has asked me to inform you that he has returned to the tower and will be in his quarters for the remainder of the afternoon." 

Tony frowned. "Does he want to see me? Did he say why?" 

"That was the only information he gave me," JARVIS said. "If you would like me to ask--"

"No," Tony interrupted. "No, thanks, J, I'm good."

He considered the message for a moment. Steve wanted Tony to know where he was, but he hadn't made a move to contact Tony directly. 

And maybe, Tony thought, that was because Tony had done his usual disappearing act. Steve's message gave them both an out. Steve hadn't asked Tony to come to his quarters, and he hadn't come to Tony's. He'd just had JARVIS pass on the information. 

If Tony wanted anything from Steve, he was going to have to ask for it. 

That was fair, given that Tony had never recanted his "I am done with relationships forever" bullshit, even though nobody should ever listen to something that a recently-dumped, extremely drunk, person was saying about love. 

Annoying, but fair. 

But that message via JARVIS had been a challenge Tony didn't intend to back down from. After what had happened between them in that shelter, Steve would know that Tony was just being a coward, and there was no way in hell he was letting Steve think that. 

Especially when this way, maybe, they could both get what they wanted. 

Tony left his drink sitting on the bar and made his way to Steve's door. "JARVIS, tell him I'm here?" 

He could knock, but this way, Tony could be certain that Steve knew it was Tony out in the hall. If he chose not to answer the door, Tony would know he'd read everything wrong. 

But Steve did answer. "Tony," he said. "I didn't know if you'd want--"

"I want," Tony said quickly. "I want--Jesus, Steve, I want _so much_ , I don't even know if I can tell you what I want." Not without sounding like a lovesick sap who needed to back away from the Hallmark channel, anyway. 

Steve just smiled. "Then let's start with something simple. Do you want to come in?" 

"I might never want to leave," Tony warned him, and Steve laughed. 

"I wouldn't mind," he said, and stepped back to let Tony in.

****

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Indigo Girls' "Love's Recovery." Though it didn't really work for a title, I specifically had the line, "Though it's storming out I feel safe within the arms of love's discovery," in my mind as I wrote it. 
> 
> [Find me on Dreamwidth!](https://mireille719.dreamwidth.org)


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